


The Helpless and the Hopeful

by KonstantineXIII



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, But Will Be Mostly Fluff, Doctor Clarke, F/F, Friends to Moms to Lovers, If you're into that kind of thing, Lawyer Lexa, Pining, drool, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:04:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KonstantineXIII/pseuds/KonstantineXIII
Summary: “Okay, Ms. Woods, since you’re the registered foster parent here, DSHS will be contacting you within the next 24 hours to get an inspection set up. But in the mean time, there’s nothing wrong with your license so Baby Woods will go home with you tonight,”Lexa froze at the words, at the name. At the idea that the police would just hand over such a precious thing to a perfect stranger. But Clarke was much more composed, relief evident in every syllable as she thanked the officer.“Lexa,” Clarke prompted, squeezing her hand.Lexa swallowed, and dipped her head, “I’m okay,”Clarke pursed her lips, running her thumb against Lexa’s slowly.“We need to name her,”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm a little drunk while I do it.

 “Uhm, can you pick something up on your way home?”

Lexa frowned and pressed the receiver closer to her ear.

“Clarke, are you… crying?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I just,” Lexa heard a shift of fabric through her engine’s idle, and Clarke’s voice was high and breathless, “I just need you right now. And preferably you with a really soft blanket,”

Lexa nodded at no one, “Okay, Clarke. You need me to get a blanket?”

“Yeah,”

“Alright, I can do that,” she swallowed, “Is everything alright?”

The line went quiet, and Lexa’s heart double-timed in the spaces between.

“I don’t think so,” Clarke whispered, “But they’ll be better when you get home,”

“I’m on my way. Just hang on, okay?”

“Yeah, Lex. Don’t forget the blanket,”

“It’s literally the only thing you’re asking me for,”

Clarke managed a laugh down the line, and Lexa nearly sighed in relief.

“I’ll see you,”

“Mm. Bye,”

Lexa swallowed and cast about for where she could get a soft blanket. Their sheets were soft. Clarke had thought the jersey knit sheets were fun and smooth against her skin. But apparently they were the wrong kind of soft. And it left Lexa worried.

She knows when Clarke isn’t alright.

They have been living together for three years - Clarke, the friend of a friend who needed a roommate to split rent with, anyone would do, and Lexa in the same boat. They were polar opposites, but eerily similar. For a year, they had been the typical roommates, skittering around each other with passive grievances and differing preferences. Clarke was wild. Not in a destructive sense, in a habitual sense. Lexa was stoic and calm, the rock in Clarke's storm. But two years later, and they had simply fitted together. Lexa was blunt and honest in confrontation, but would rarely initiate, where Clarke would initiate, but bow to sensitivity. Neither one really knew why, but when their two-year lease had run up, they moved to a new apartment together. 

A better location, bigger floor space, higher windows, but only one bedroom. They had glanced at each other, then, shrugging. Neither were big on dating, Clarke in med school, and Lexa following law, but it wasn't odd for Clarke to casually have coffee every so often. It had been a freak happening that led to a pretty blonde leaving Lexa's room one early morning. Clarke had smirked at the taller woman, who rolled her eyes and claimed nothing had happened. Still, sharing a room meant sharing a bed.

"I'll make a chart," Lexa had offered. 

"You would," Clarke had scoffed. 

Now, half of her was strongly opinioned to drive straight home. The other half rolled its eyes and told her to focus. Even if she wasn’t alright, Clarke had asked her for something.

Lexa gripped the wheel and turned around. 

* * *

 

Lexa walked into their apartment, confused and slightly concerned. The feeling only deepened when she saw Clarke sitting at their poor excuse of a kitchen table. Lexa placed her bags by the fridge and lifted an eyebrow at the shut door to their bedroom. In her memory, that door had never been shut without one of them in it.

“Lexa,” Clarke started, worry and panic written into her face. She was still in scrubs, her hair up and out of her eyes. She breathed shallowly, and Lexa’s expression went active as she stepped forward to take Clarke into her reach of reassurance.

“Clarke, what happened?”

“Shh,” Clarke hushed, Lexa’s brows shooting upwards. Clarke swallowed, taking one of her hands and leading Lexa to their bedroom door. A deep breath, and she pushed it open gently.

Clarke breathed through the twists of Lexa’s surprise, alarm, confusion, fear, and then deep apprehension. There, on the two stacked queen mattresses she and Clarke shared out of pure, graduate study-induced poverty, was a baby.

A sleeping, but very much alive and breathing, baby.

Wrapped in Lexa’s Georgetown sweatshirt and swaddled in their sheets, there was a baby.

“Clarke,” Lexa managed, her brows furrowed as she finally looked back to her roommate. She couldn’t help it, her first thought being if Clarke had snapped and stolen a baby from the hospital. None of their friends had recently had babies, so this wasn’t a sitting job. Tens of possibilities, and Lexa dismissed them all in a split second.

Clarke nearly smiled as she saw Lexa’s thoughts spool out, and pushed her friend out of the room gently, twisting her fingers together as Lexa softly shut their door and followed to the living room.

Lexa watched as Clarke pulled the whiskey off the shelf, hesitate, and replace it. The woman turned, looking like she wanted to pace. Or run. Or cry. Lexa simply sat on the edge of their couch and waited. Clarke paused.

Of course Lexa would wait.

She swallowed.

“I was walking home from work,” she breathed, Lexa’s earnest eyes confused but willing. Clarke sat next to her roommate, tense, and continued, “I can’t explain why I walked, I just didn’t feel like taking the bus. – God, what if I had taken the bus?”

“Clarke,” a soft prompt.

“Right. And I had to pee like crazy two minutes into it. Which, figures, right?”

Clarke has always tried to deflect with humor. It fell flat even to her ears, and Lexa didn’t dignify it with indulgence.

“I went into the McDonalds on 34th and Vine to pee, and –“ Clarke’s face contorted, her eyes filling with tears, “- and I found her in the _trash can_ ,” she broke.

Lexa’s chest vacuumed, and her eyes blew wide. A freeze cracked into her heart before a firey type of pain flashed hot with affection and empathetic misery for the blonde girl next to her. She didn’t hesitate to cover Clarke’s hand with her own, and the woman cried harder as she latched back.

It was the first time she had allowed herself to consider the horrific implications. Clarke held her face in her other hand, leaned forward in curling wretchedness.

“I just don’t understand what kind of person would-“ she cut herself off. Lexa’s jaw wired shut, her face crumpling.

It was an evil thing.

Criminal at its definition. Lexa couldn’t help but watch the statutes stack up behind her eyes. To leave a child – a baby – abandoned, so clearly alone and unwanted, it was atrocious. A revolting idea, much less something to be discovered.

“Clarke,” Lexa croaked, her throat closing.

Clarke gave a harsh, wet exhalation, moving with painful sloth to climb into Lexa’s lap and cry into her neck. Lexa circled her arms around the blonde and rocked minutely.

They stayed locked that way for a few long moments, Clarke simply mourning the cruelty humans were capable of. Clarke had always felt emotions with such depth. It was what made her such a good friend. What will make her such a good doctor.

Lexa stroked over her hair, and Clarke breathed normally, disengaging. She wiped at her face while Lexa watched her, expression set in concern and a deep resolve in her vivid green eyes.

“We’re going to help her,” Lexa said, her voice the steel-edge Clarke heard her use to answer the phone. She could have cried all over again. Lexa was so very much a ‘we’ kind of person.

“I want to,” Clarke swallowed, standing. She crossed to the kitchen and poured water into two glasses. Lexa watched her carefully, the same steady concern on her face.

It was a new reality to adjust to. There was a baby on the other side of their bedroom door. In their apartment. A helpless, tiny human who needed someone. And since there was no one- there was them.

Lexa breathed.

And started to plan.

When Clarke brought her a glass of water, she sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, directly facing Lexa.

“We need to call the police,” Lexa started, her fingers itching for a pen and paper. Lists would help them. Lists always helped, “I once read a case from California about how it’s illegal to keep anything you find abandoned worth more than $100,” Clarke’s heart broke over again at the word ‘abandoned’, but she nodded.

“And I need to find my last vaccination record if I need to re-up my foster parent status. If I don’t, it’ll just be tossed around the system,” Lexa’s teeth grit, her eyes focusing on the glass in her hands.

Clarke breathed.

“I gave you your flu shot this year in October. I got mine too,”

Lexa nodded, thinking hard.

“Lex?”

“Hm?”

Clarke bit her lip.

“Do you want to help with this?”

Lexa refocused, pulling out of her own head. She looked over Clarke’s stressed features. The shadows under her eyes from where her clinical shifts were already strenuous. The slight mat to her blonde hair, letting Lexa know she hadn’t showered today. The swim of red around her shining, worried, beautiful blue eyes.

“Yes, Clarke,” she nodded firmly, “I spent years in the system before Indra and Anya. It’s not going to have to do the same. Not while I can save someone from that,”

Clarke’s heart constricted, but for the first time today, not painfully. She repressed the urge to reach out and touch Lexa.

“Her,”

Lexa tipped her head. Clarke smiled.

“It’s a ‘her’,”

Lexa reviewed her own words and ducked briefly, a punch echoing in her chest, “Of course,” she said softly, worrying her lip with her teeth. Clarke smirked, placing her thumb against her roommate’s bottom lip to stop the action.

Last year, Lexa had been so stressed for her finals she had started to chew her lip in her sleep. She had woken up one day with a deep split, and Clarke had nearly panicked at the blood on her pillow. Since, it had become Clarke’s personal vendetta to quit Lexa of the unconscious habit.

“Do you know any more about what’s about to happen?” Clarke asked softly, removing her hand.

Lexa sighed, nodding.

“I’m not entirely clear on how to get – get _her_ – here. But there’s a list somewhere of all of the requirements foster parents need to meet in order to take in a child,”

Clarke nodded.

“Alright, well,” she closed her eyes in an elongated blink, rousing her heart, “I’m going to shower and change and then we’ll go to the police station, alright?”

Lexa nodded.

Clarke stood, settled a hand on Lexa’s shoulder, and walked to their bedroom. Lexa stared after her. She could only imagine what was going on behind the door. She swallowed and leaned to lay on the couch completely.

Her head threatened to spin with thoughts.

This was a life-changing decision. It was irrational. Taking a child in? A baby? Lexa was in her final year of law school, Clarke about to graduate and take her boards. Lexa didn’t have money. The time? This wasn’t like a stray dog. Children _needed_.

But the alternative. Lexa’s thoughts rolled black.

She had been relatively lucky. Indra had taken her in when she was 8. It was old, too old for most, but she got out with only mild emotional cuts. Anya had been 14 when Indra saved her, and then shoved in therapy for the next 14. Anya has been a strong proponent for the field since her first session. Still, Anya had scowled at the foster system ever since. It had taken Costia to turn the scowl into a salivating fury.

Lexa opened her eyes.

Costa would never happen again. She rolled onto her feet and retrieved her phone, Googling frantically. She found Washington’s foster parent page and frowned, reading the lines. One of the vetting requirements was a home inspection, to ensure a variety of things as well as a delineated space for the child.

Her eyes skimmed around their living room. It was cramped already. With a simple couch, a coffee table, bookshelves, an armchair, a desk and chair and a houseplant by the window. She crept to their bedroom. She breathed deeply.

The baby was still sleeping on the center of the bed, Lexa’s gaze immediately locked on the infant. She distantly heard Clarke in the shower, but for now her heart beat was in her ears, and overwhelming drum.

The baby had a shock of chocolate-wheat hair over her bald little head. Light brown flirting dirty blonde. She watched the little girl breathe in sweet, shallow expirations. Her chubby hands were curled into light fists, and Lexa wondered if they were large enough to even wrap around her whole thumb.

And that’s all it took, she thought to herself. She was gone.

Lexa backed out of the room with her heart in her throat. She shut the door and leaned against it, fighting the urge to sprint or cry or run into the room and figure out how to hold that tiny, precious baby.

She thought of Clarke’s near-panicked eyes, and breathed. Her head lowered and she set to work, her mind made up.

A while later, Clarke emerged from their bedroom, the baby on her hip awake and alert. Lexa rose from the couch.

“Ready?” she braced, her eyes not leaving the girl. Lexa paused. She had blue eyes. Lexa cleared her throat.

“She’s beautiful,”

Clarke merely smiled. Lexa was everything she needed sometimes.

“Yeah, she is. But she also poops, so we need to – Lex, where’s your desk?”

Lexa turned to the now-empty space.

“The curb next to the garbage,” she replied blankly.

Clarke cocked an eyebrow, trying to stride gracefully through Lexa apparently losing her mind.

“Okay then. You’ll explain that on the ride over?”

“Yes,”

“Great,”

Clarke pressed a kiss to the staring, quiet baby in her arms.

“C’mon, sweet girl. Be strong for just a little while,”

* * *

The police station took her away. Clarke had looked like she wanted to vault across the counter when a kind, elderly secretary had moved away with the child. She assured her she was only going to take the baby into their childcare lounge and change her while they filed paperwork.

“And you found nothing around her?”

Lexa looked to Clarke in deference.

Clarke shook her head, pressing her shoulder more firmly into Lexa’s.

“All she had were the clothes she’s wearing,”

The officer nodded, typing with a grim expression. He was trying to look unaffected, and Lexa sympathized. Even the hardest of people would crack at this.

“And you said you’re living at a different address than the one in your foster parent registry, Ms. Woods?”

“Yes, we moved,”

“Could I get that address then?”

Clarke rattled it off. Lexa, a woman exceedingly brilliant, for some reason could never remembered their zip code.

“Okay, I can probably guarantee a DSHS worker to be at your place in a day or so for the inspection. Nothing wrong with your file, so your license is up to date,” he flipped through a few pages on his screen.

“But you, Ms. Griffith-“

“Griffin,”

“Griffin, sorry,” he made a few clicks of correction, “You’re living in the same domicile?”

“Yes,”

“Okay, then we’ll need to get you started on a background check and then you’ll need to get with the DSHS office with your immunizations,”

“Of course,”

Clarke was wire-tense, and Lexa pressed a hand to her friend’s thigh, Clarke immediately covering it with her own in thanks.

The officer spent some more time clicking and typing, and Lexa held Clarke’s hand like an anchor. It was an odd period to take time to reflect in, but Lexa couldn’t help but look at herself from the outside in.

She must look like a worried parent.

“Okay, Ms. Woods, since you’re the foster parent here, DSHS will be contacting you within the next 24 hours to get an inspection set up. But in the mean time, there’s nothing wrong with your license so Baby Woods will go home with you tonight,”

Lexa froze at the words, at the name. At the idea that the police would just hand over such a precious thing to a perfect stranger. But Clarke was much more composed, relief evident in every syllable as she thanked the officer. He smiled and went to retrieve some documents.

“Lex,” Clarke prompted, squeezing her hand.

Lexa swallowed, and dipped her head, “I’m okay,”

Clarke pursed her lips, running her thumb against Lexa’s slowly.

“We need to name her,” she murmured in measure.

Lexa hummed distantly.

“Lexa,” a question; a call.

Lexa breathed a little deeper and nodded, rallying. She looked to Clarke’s careful eyes.

“I’m here,” she squeezed back, “I’m good,”

Clarke’s expression eased, her head falling to Lexa’s shoulder.

“We need to name her,”

“I’ve always liked Amelia,”

“How about Quinn?”

“Maybe as a middle name,”

“Hm,” Clarke sat up, stretching her back in her seat, “Amelia reminds me of my mother,”

Lexa smirked, “I’ll take that as a no, then. Elizabeth?”

Clarke smiled back and rolled her eyes.

“Lexa, every little girl’s middle name since 1980 has been either Elizabeth or Marie,”

“We could call her Eliza,”

“Lexa. No,”

Lexa scrunched her nose, until Clarke smiled, falling against her shoulder again, “Though I do like the idea of a long name shortened to another. Like yours,”

“We are _not_ naming this kid _Alexandrine_ ,” Lexa said in near-disgust, “I sound like I should be waging war on Empires in a toga made of spun gold,”

“Or doing shots of $400 bottles of tequila,”

Lexa lifted a grand eyebrow, “And what makes you think I’m not?”

Clarke grinned, “Because you could barely afford me a Christmas present last year,”

Lexa tried not to fidget, “I thought you liked it,”

Clarke huffed a laugh, “Of course I did. But I know exactly how expensive art supplies are, and I know exactly how you approach gift-giving,”

Lexa let it lie. She had a tendency to be thorough in all things. But with the budget she had poorly planned that year, Clarke’s presents had resulted in an eclectic selection of a very few, but very nice, selection of charcoals, canvases, and oils.

If she had approached it correctly, she’d have taken Clarke to the orchestra as well, but had to settle for the ice rink.

She smiled.

“What?” Clarke gave a reciprocal twitch of her lips just looking at Lexa. The police station bustled behind them, visible through the glass.

Lexa gave a self-conscious shuffle, “You know that coffee place that got us through finals a few years ago? Where the owners kept giving us free gingerbread scones?”

Clarke smiled, “Eve and Lynn’s, yeah. I had to think of new ways to dispose of yours,” she recalled fondly. Lexa didn't like gingerbread.

“Well,” Lexa tipped her head, “What do you think about that?”

“Eve and Lynn?” Clarke furrowed her brow.

“Evelyn,”

Clarke smiled, liking it immediately, “Evelyn,”

“We could call her Eve,”

“Or Evie,”

“Or Evie,”

Lexa found herself smiling with measured joy at the lightness in Clarke’s eyes. It was a frightening thing to try to come to terms with, to bestow a name. The identifier that a whole person would carry for the rest of their lives. But the woman she was looking at was named ‘Clark with an e’, as all coffee shops were informed of, and her own name was something so pretentious she had tried to legally change it at 17.

Still, Clarke’s expression gave her hope. And security. And when the officer helping them re-entered the room, Clarke had stood and collected the baby from him as naturally as anything Lexa had ever seen. A press of Clarke’s nose to the girl’s, and a whispered, “Hi, Evie,” and Lexa felt like her heart might explode.

The officer handed over a startling amount of documentation, and then they were free to go.

The first stop had been the store.

A crib, a high chair, car seat, towels, diapers, wipes, binkies, the works. Clarke was patient as her arms ached with Evie’s weight. Lexa was frantically searching on her phone for articles pro/conning baby formula brands and types, and Clarke only smiled indulgently.

It was a very Lexa thing to do, and it was a very good sign.

An entire cart’s worth of baby things went to the register, and Lexa handed over a credit card, Clarke watching in worry. Lexa shot her a significant look.

“Just let me do this,” she demanded in a pleading tone. Clarke sighed and nodded, rocking Evie and getting her to release a piece of her hair.

They put everything in the car and Clarke spent twenty minutes staring at a street light while she let Lexa worry over the proper adjustments and bucklings of the car seat.

“Thank god we got a carrier,” Clarke sighed, twisted in her seat to wave a plastic donut at Evie, who seemed absolutely riveted, “my arms are tired as hell, and my shirt is drenched in slobber,”

Lexa glanced at her and laughed loudly.

“That’s a good look for you,” she said smugly, “Very under-appreciated Mom,”

Clarke tried with every fiber of her being not to feel anything at the title.

She only huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, well, you’ll get your turn. You get to put the crib together,”

Lexa scoffed, “How hard could it be?”

* * *

“I’m telling you, it’s _bull_ shit, Clarke!”

“Lexa!”

Clarke glared at the woman, and Lexa actually flushed with guilt as Evie’s round eyes rolled over her in alert acknowledgement. She gave a jerking wave of her arm and looked back to Clarke. Lexa exhaled.

“Sorry,” she cleared her throat, “But this _trap_ is bull-you-know-what,”

Clarke pressed a smile into her teeth.

“Well,” she breathed, bracing, “Maybe we should call Raven,” she looked away from Lexa to innocently put the bottle back to Evie’s mouth, “or Bellamy,”

Lexa felt her heart flame with indignation. She narrowed her eyes at her friend.

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” she seethed pettily, “And it’s not going to work,” she straightened proudly and scoffed, “But there isn’t a chance in he- _ck_ ,” she coughed, “There’s zero chance of that man stepping foot in this apartment while Evie is here. No,”

“Okay, Lex,” Clarke smiled, watching Evie’s sweet face as she pawed at the bottle awkwardly. She heard Lexa return to the crib’s instruction manual, and grinned at the string of fluent mumbling. They had pushed a few shelves in their bedroom into the living room where the desk used to be. Lexa had re-arranged the entirety of their apartment and was determined to make room in their bedroom for the crib. Now, it was a matter of putting leg A to side B, using bracket C and screw D, with tool E, which is not included.

By the time Clarke had bathed, dressed, and burped Evie, Lexa had figured it out and proudly addressed the bedding. Clarke rolled her eyes and rained sarcastic praises. She leaned down and peeled Evie off of her shoulder, the precious girl having fallen asleep after burping.

They stood then, side by side, staring down at the baby.

“I’m so scared,” Clarke whispered. Lexa pulled a deep breath and swallowed.

“Me too,”

“I want this, though. Is that weird?”

Lexa understood. Looking down at Evie, she felt it. The want. The maternal want to protect, and love, and teach, and nurture. It made her heart beat sideways and called for the whole of her being to lay down on a wire just so this beautiful little girl would have a flat place to curl up on.

“No,” she said lowly, “Not weird,”

Clarke dashed a traitorous well of a tear, “We’re going to love her so much, okay?”

“Yes,” Lexa swallowed, “We’re going to love her,”

“We have to be a team,”

“I know, Clarke,” Lexa turned to her friend, her best friend, the woman she would do anything for; give anything; be anything, “I’m in this. I know it’s sudden, but I’m all in, Clarke,”

Clarke nodded.

She loved Lexa. And part of Lexa was her habit of saying only exactly what she meant. Precisely and only exactly what she intended. It was a honesty issue for her, something borne out of good intentions but had landed her in trouble more often than not. But it surprisingly helped her as a litigator, able to smell bullshit a mile off.

And Clarke loved it about her. It was the part of Lexa that lead to conversations in the dark and on Sunday mornings, the part that drove Lexa to careful deliberation before speech. The part that made communication easy and free when organizing dinner plans.

And it was the part that Clarke was going to take refuge in during the months to come. Lexa was solid. Dependable. If Lexa said she wanted this, she did. If Lexa said she would be here, she would.

And as Lexa stood next to Clarke and softly suggested Clarke should go to bed, Clarke knew she was worrying her.

“Social worker tomorrow,” Lexa reminded her.

“Yeah,”

Because Clarke needed it, craved it, wouldn’t be able to sleep without it, she stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck. Without hesitating, Lexa folded Clarke to her chest and held her.

They hugged for comfort, and safety, and sanity.

Clarke pulled away slightly, pressing a kiss to Lexa’s temple.

“Love you,” she whispered. Lexa nodded. It wasn’t something they said to each other with frequency. It was generally understood. But Clarke was tired, and stretched to an emotional thin.

“Love you,” Lexa echoed, smiling warmly, “I’ll be right there, I’m gonna,” she waved a hand over Evie, and Clarke nodded. Lexa’s eyes softened even further, and she pressed Clarke’s hand before dropping it.

The blonde walking away, Lexa looked down at her charge.

“You’re going to change it all, aren’t you?” her lips twitched, “Evelyn Quinn Woods,”


	2. Chapter 2

 “Clarke. What are you doing?”

Lexa rubbed at an eye but joined Clarke in the darkened bedroom.

“Watching her,”

“Why?”

Evie was asleep in her crib, something she spent approximately 16 hours a day doing. Clarke yawned, hands on the rail as Lexa approached.

“I’m afraid if I don’t watch her take every breath, she’s just going to stop breathing,”

Lexa paused, eyes already having unconsciously trained on the impossibly shallow inhales of Evie’s chest.

“Is that likely?”

“No,”

“Clarke, you’re three months away from being a medical doctor,”

“Correct,”

Lexa hummed.

“Right. I’ll take the first shift, okay? Do you want to sleep?”

Clarke slumped sideways, her head lightly bumping onto Lexa’s shoulder gratefully. She gave a borderline noise of dissent and yawned.

“How was the research?”

“Good,” Lexa resisted the urge to slip an arm around Clarke’s waist. She settled for leaning her cheek on Clarke’s soft blonde hair, “I’m going to ask my boss to help me with filing a petition to terminate parental rights. Now that I’m her official foster parent, it’s the first step to adoption,”

“Sounds scary. Why is it a petition?”

Lexa sucked in a breath.

“Because we’re strangers. Essentially, we’re strangers asking the court to say that Eve’s all on her own in the world, and dissolve any rights her birth parents have to her. The court can say no,”

Clarke’s heart seized in her chest.

“Is that likely?”

“Not in abandonment cases, if the legislature holds,”

“But it happens?”

Lexa didn’t hesitate to fit Clarke’s body against her own. Clarke was a tactile person. It was security doubled down, “Out of the 132 cases I just reviewed, only 1 was remanded for further investigation, Clarke. It’s going to work out,”

Clarke’s throat unknotted, turning further and into Lexa’s neck. Every blink tickled the brunette, but Lexa held still.

“Okay,” she breathed deeply, voice thick and tired, “My resident said we can bring her in tomorrow between noon and three. Dr. Gupta’s his good friend,”

“What’s Gupta’s pediatric specialty again?

“Genetics and Metabolism,”

“Have you met them?”

“Him, and no. But he’s apparently the best. Kane says he’d trust his own kids to him, so,”

“The best,” Lexa yields, Clarke nodding against her. Lexa worries at her lower lip.

“Clarke,”

“Hm?”

“What if she’s sick?”

“Then we’ll take care of her,”

“What if,” she swallowed, the fear threatening to choke her, “What if I can’t handle it?”

Clarke found Lexa’s hand in the darkness, lacing together on Evie’s crib rail.

“You love her, Lexa. You can do anything,”

They were responses Lexa was sure she could have conjured up herself. But in the dim light, Evie’s precious features innocent and peaceful, Clarke’s low voice was sonic strength. Her tones sang sweet and honeyed iron into Lexa’s bones, and the surety she found felt like aloe on a burn.

She could do anything.

She could do anything with Clarke standing next to her.

 

* * *

 

Lexa wrinkled her nose for the fourth time, lowering her head to sniff at Eve’s iron-blonde wisps of hair. Clarke slapped her in the leg with a magazine.

“It is not that bad,”

“Do they disinfect the very floors? Put it in Febreeze bottles and walk the halls?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, the hospital hallway as familiar to her as her own apartment, but itching to Lexa’s nose. She knew Lexa didn’t particularly like hospitals. It was the sterility. The silence between the bustle and phone calls. She described it as a place where there are only inhales.

Clarke knew it was because Costia had died in a hospital, and Lexa had never forgiven the very building.

“Would you like us to stop sanitizing things?” she responded dryly, “Last I checked, MRSA wasn’t allowed at the receptionist’s desk,”

“Fine,” Lexa sighed, “But only for Evie,”

“And Jaha calls you his cutthroat protégé,”

“Being a well-researched litigator has nothing to do with my sense of smell,”

“Hm. And at the same time, I smell BS,”

Lexa muffled a laugh behind a scoff, and Clarke lauded silently in victory. Moments passed in content silence. A nurse passed her, waving in recognition and slight confusion.

“Speaking of, what have you told Jaha?”

Lexa shifted, the front-carrier adjusted slightly too loosely. She had forgotten to fix it from Clarke’s settings.

“I told him that I’m adopting a baby,” she blanked, a steel in her voice that let Clarke know it hadn’t been a conversation borne of requests, “He was surprised, but agreed that I can do most of my work from home for a while,”

“Agreed?”

“Yes,”

Clarke’s eyebrow had slid up, blue eyes parsing through Lexa’s careful features.

“What did you do?”

“I threatened to quit,”

“Lexa,”

“Fine,” she sighed and folded, powering down from the wind up of her remembered exchange with her mentor and future boss, “I told him that he could choose one of three options; first, he could cut my clerkship’s hours to let me take care of Evelyn, let me graduate, and then watch me join another firm,” she shrugged, “He could let me work from home three days a week and keep me on as a junior associate like he wants. Or,”

“Or?”

“Or I’d request maternity leave and sue him for violation of equal opportunity policies. And then join another firm,”

Clarke stared at her.

“You threatened to sue Thelonius Jaha? Of Hawthorne, Kippling & Jaha? The biggest civil rights attorney in the east United States?”

Lexa stared back.

“Yes,”

“He’s going to propose to you,”

Lexa burst out in a surprise of a laugh, Clarke grinning. She eyed Lexa proudly.

“That’s amazing, Lex. You’re amazing. I’m guessing you’ll be home three days a week, then?”

Lexa nodded, bashful in Clarke’s modest praise, “Monday, Wednesday, Friday,”

“Good,” Clarke nodded, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to switch to nights Tuesday and Thursday. Kane’s going to meet us, and I’m not afraid to wield Evie like an adorable shield,”

“Truly terrifying,” Lexa aired.

Clarke smiled, about to respond when Marcus Kane appeared. Salt and pepper hair atop kindly, weathered uncle-type features. Clarke stood, smiling.

“Dr. Kane, you’ve met Lexa,”

Lexa had found her feet, her handshake firm in a surprisingly limp grip. She nearly grimaced at herself. Lawyers have ruined her.

“Of course,” Kane nodded, “How are you?”

“Well,” Lexa quieted out, “I really appreciate you helping us get in contact with Dr. Gupta,”

Kane waved a hand, “Of course, of course. Ishaan has been my friend for many, many years. Is this Evelyn?”

Lexa nodded, turning her body to reveal the sleeping baby girl. Kane seemed to curl into himself in delight. He grinned and gestured for them to follow him through the hospital.

Clarke and Kane chatted for a moment before being deposited in an exam room. Lexa took small observances and heard Clarke promise to check on something before Kane left to fetch Dr. Gupta.

“How are you?”

Lexa looked to see Clarke’s patient, probing expression. She breathed, nodding.

“I just need her to be healthy, and safe,”

“She’s fine, Lex,” she stroked over Evie’s balled fist with two fingers, “And even if she’s not, we’ll do everything and anything to make sure she gets the care she needs,”

A few moments in the quiet vacuum of their own room unwound easily, and Clarke laughed smally.

“It’s weird to be on this side of the door,” she smiled, “I forgot how nerve racking the waiting game was,”

“And how does your own medicine taste?”

Clarke screwed her face up.

“Not very good,”

Lexa was laughing as Dr. Ishaan Gupta entered the room with Dr. Kane, the quarters becoming tight. Kane immediately sat in an observation chair, Clarke joining Lexa’s side as Dr. Gupta took a stool after a round of initial greetings.

“So, Marcus here tells me you’ve recently found Little Evelyn,” Dr. Gupta began easily, “Why don’t you try and tell me everything you can about the situation?”

Dr. Gupta was a wizened man of his mid-40s, but who had aged himself between the lenses of microscopes. Still, his bedside manner was impeccable, and Clarke immediately identified him as one of the rare doctors without compassion fatigue. He still loved the children he cared for.

At his prompt, Lexa worried at her bottom lip, Clarke immediately taking the reigns.

Promptly, nearly professionally, she rattled off every relevant behavior, symptom, pattern, and diagnosable trait she could think of. Dr. Gupta merely nodded, jotting a few words down every so often. Occasionally, he asked a medical-specific question, but otherwise listened.

Clarke reached the end of her scroll soon.

“Best I can estimate, she’s 4 to 5 weeks old,”

Lexa had looked more relieved with every word, but her eyes went sharp at this. Clarke realized what the look meant and kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to keep it from Lexa, it had only been an observance kicking around in the back of her head. Well, they’d fight about it later.

Dr. Gupta pocketed his pen.

“Well, Clarke, if you and Lexa can spare her, I’ll need to examine her,”

Lexa’s expression was locked on ‘concerned’. Her heart beat unhappily as she watched Dr. Gupta take Evie from her arms and set her on the paper-lined table. Now awake, the darling blue of her eyes rolled around, searching for a familiar face, unable to find it.

Immediately, she fussed, the whining soon crumpling her expression into full blown cries. Clarke reached to take her, soothing her against her chest and perching on the exam table next to Dr. Gupta’s machinery. She did the best she could to comfort Evie while the doctor poked into her ears, nose, and mouth, but Lexa grimaced at her baby’s discomfort.

She was weighed, measured, listen to, and tested for reflex. Kane had disappeared at one point and then reappeared later on. What he carried in his hand absolutely froze Lexa’s breast, and Clarke tuned in to the woman’s reaction. She breathed deeply, feeling stretched, wanting to comfort Evie and Lexa both at once.

“Okay, Evelyn,” Dr. Gupta tried gamely, “Your last tests are ones you don’t even have to participate in,” he took the vials and packaging from Kane, laying out the sterile equipment on the exam table next to her.

Lexa breathed shallowly, her eyebrows furrowed. Fear and guilt muffled the sound of her own heartbeat like a blanket, and sadness sliced into her. She crossed her arms over her chest and braced.

At first, Evie wasn’t aware of what had happened, the vial already half-full of the blood Dr. Gupta needed for testing. But the needle’s pinch obviously registered, her screams punching Lexa through the chest like a bullet. Flushed in pain and confusion, Lexa wanted to apologize on her knees. She had hurt her baby, and it choked her.

Clarke was trying her best to hold Evie still as to not hurt herself. Her tiny body coiled, and her stomach bottomed out. She looked up with shining eyes to see Lexa’s hands on her face, tears dropping in ones and twos into her fingers, misery in her posture.

Gupta clucked and finished his work quickly, organizing himself. He looked from Lexa to Clarke and gave a humming sort of chuckle, conferring with Kane for a moment. Lexa wanted to punch him.

Instead, she crossed to take Evie quickly, pressing her tightly to her chest and rocking. Clarke stood to press her own chest against Evie’s rear and legs, her hand covering the small triangle of space Lexa’s didn’t on her back. She joined the soothing rock, singing softly but loudly, not caring about the doctors in the room. Eventually, apparently swaddled and secure enough sandwiched between her mothers, Evie quieted, eyes and cheeks shining.

“I’m gonna go talk to Dr. Gupta, alright?” Clarke spoke softly, hand sliding from Evie’s back to Lexa’s cheek, stroking away the tightness in her eyes. Lexa grit her jaw and nodded, chest easing as Clarke’s worried expression grounded her. If Lexa truly felt the need, she could have asked Clarke not to leave the room. Not to go for a while longer. Stay and hold her, because she felt like a terrible mother.

And Clarke would stay.

And just knowing it let her nod her head for Clarke to take off. The blonde gave a gentle, encouraging smile, kissing Eve on the cheek before escorting Dr. Gupta out. Lexa breathed.

“I remember when my boy broke his leg,”

Lexa turned, somehow surprised Kane was still in the room.

“It was terrible,” he chuckled, “I would have sworn to anything, given anything, for me to take his place. It was such an irrational thought, but I had to watch them set his leg,” he gave a faux-shudder, “There’s a reason I’m an endocrinologist,”

Lexa gave a weak smile, “Bones make sounds,”

Kane laughed, “Exactly. Orthopedics are freaks of nature,”

“I thank God Clarke isn’t one every day,”

Kane shook his head, “She’s going to be the finest cardiologist this side of the Midwest if she gets her way. I keep trying to talk her into plastics, though. She’s got the hands of a surgeon,”

Lexa smiles genuinely, pleased beyond measure to hear Clarke bragged about. She had first hand knowledge of just how hard Clarke worked.

“Very steady,” she agrees, “She’s the only person I trust to cut Evie’s nails. Or hem my pants,”

Kane grinned, “Great hands, then,” he gave a wink, “But I suppose you’re the best person to speak to that,”

Lexa gave a reflexive socially polite laugh, “Yes. Wait, what?”

Kane ruffled himself, smiling, “Shall we go outside? Ishaan’s most likely talking Clarke’s ear off about his latest research project. How about we save her and get you guys out of here? May I hold her?”

Lexa nodded, confused but willing.

She collected Clarke’s purse and the diaper bag, an eye on Kane’s secure hold of her daughter. They found Clarke and Gupta, sans blood, and were told it’d be a few days for the blood results back, but as far as he can see Evie is a perfectly healthy one month old.

A few questions later, and they were free to leave.

Lexa held Evie on the walk back to the car, Clarke rubbing her back fluidly in apology and comfort. Her phone chimed a text as Lexa buckled Eve in, and Clarke’s half-laugh sounded surprised. She twisted to send an incredulous look to Lexa.

“What did you say to Kane?”

Lexa tipped her head, “Nothing. He said something about his son, and he complemented you for a while,” she paused, turning the car over, “Also, I think he made a lesbian sex joke,”

Clarke’s eyebrows pitched.

“Well that’s going to require some explaining. But he just texted that he’ll move my schedule around. And that we’re invited to his house,”

“Key party?”

“Dinner,”

“I’m assuming you already told him we’ll be there?”

“The man is writing me a love letter of a recommendation when I graduate. Yes, we’re going to go to his three-tiered house, chew on his wife’s dry roast beef, make small talk about obscure medical articles and the weather, and use Evie as an excuse to skip coffee and dessert,”

Lexa was already laughing.

“Terrifying. Truly terrifying,"

 

* * *

  

“How about a surprise party? We could just bring everyone over and open the door to our room and ‘Surprise! We’re adopting!’”

Lexa laughed at a dry monotone, “Because that worked out so well for me,”

“Lex, she’s your daughter now. I’d say it did the trick,”

Clarke grinned over her coffee as Lexa let out a real laugh. She was lying on the carpet, Evie asleep on her chest after some stimulating and apparently exhausting tummy time. Lexa swiveled her head to eye Clarke, the blonde folded easily on the couch.

“Would your mother be invited to the party?”

Clarke’s breath rushed out in a collapse of air.

“And there you go, ruining my morning,”

“Evie spat up on your scrubs this morning,”

Clarke hummed, “Still more pleasant than trying to project out how my mother will react to the news that she’s a grandmother,”

Lexa laughed mirthlessly, “If that were the only news, she’d be thrilled. Can I be the one to tell her it’s not because you’re pregnant?”

Clarke rolled her eyes and sipped.

“You’d get too much pleasure out of it,”

“I just don’t understand how a woman who leads a male-dominated field can have such reverence for the nuclear family. It’s an antiquated idea,”

“Again, way too much pleasure,”

Lexa grinned, guilty, and allowed Clarke to drop the topic.

“So a party, then? Why not bring people over individually? Or at least in small groups? I don’t want her overwhelmed,”

Clarke tipped her head, “She’s been fine in public, but you’re right. Our place is a little small for a party. I just hate repeating myself,”

Lexa shot her a look.

“You realize you’re a mother, yes? Repeating yourself is filed right after ‘change diapers’ and ‘breathe oxygen’ on the list of Mom duties,”

“To adults, Lexa,” Clarke stretched her spine and yawned, “I’ll do anything for Evelyn, but adults,” she shivered as her back popped, “adults I have very little patience for,”

Lexa gave a short laugh, bouncing Evie into half-consciousness, “I consider myself lucky then. Hello, baby girl,” she cooed, “Good morning again,”

“I actually like the group idea,” Clarke said, smiling unconsciously as Evie woke and stretched, humming, “It’ll be easier to field questions,”

“You expect a lot of judgment,” Lexa sighed.

Clarke bit her lip.

“I do,” her mind ran over the thoughts like one would probe fingers over a new texture, “You and I both know we look crazy. Meeting a kid without options and just deciding that we’re parents now. Together,” her shoulders squared, “I don’t expect people to understand. Much less be happy for us,”

Lexa’s eyes were calm, “People will understand when they see her,” she stood with the little girl, crossing to the couch to splay Evie over her chest as she reclined next to Clarke, “And some people will be happy for us, Clarke. You’ll see,”

Clarke ran a finger down her daughter’s small nose, the skin so soft that velvet would feel shame.

“Like who? Not my mother, for sure. Your mother will blow a gasket. Our friends will think we’re out of our minds, and no one we work with will really get it,”

“Anya,”

Clarke looked at Lexa’s settled features.

“Anya will be happy,” she absentmindedly pressed a kiss to Eve, “Anya,”

Clarke gave a small, wavering smile, considering Lexa’s sister. She’d met Anya within the first week of knowing Lexa, and her first impressions of the woman hadn’t changed.

Anya worked as some kind of mechanic for something that Clarke didn’t have government clearance for. She was even more closed off than Lexa, swore like a sailor in his prime, and had an affinity for tequila Clarke shied away from. But Lexa adored her.

The year after they’d met for the first time, Clarke had finally understood why. Anya had made a house call to their new apartment and took away Lexa by the collar, returning her drunker than hell. When she crawled in bed that night, she had smelled like a barroom floor and talked about Costia, cried out and relaxed. Since, Clarke’s made large efforts to fold the woman into their social circle with marginal success. She’d consider them friends.

Still, Anya took care of Lexa in ways Clarke never could. Understood her.

Just like she would understand her now.

“You want to call her?”

“Today? Now?”

Clarke nodded, smiling.

“I think it’d be good for you. For Eve. Anya’s a permanent person. She should get a special place in her life, don’t you think?”

Lexa looked at Clarke, thinking the woman must have read into her very soul. She smiled in sprawl.

“Thank you, Clarke,”

The blonde only smiled, living for the gleam of happiness in Lexa’s eyes. Handing their landline to Lexa, Anya’s number was dialed and answered.

“Anya? How busy are you?”

_I’m always busy, kid._

“You need to come over,”

_You in trouble?_

“Anya, I’m 25. Not 12,”

Clarke’s eyes went amused, an eyebrow cocking.

_Fine. I’ll be there soon. Any hint on what’s wrong?_

“Nothing’s wrong,” Lexa placed carefully, “We just want to show you something,”

Anya paused on the other end. It went without saying who ‘we’ referred to. Lexa was a litigious person. She always had been, even before law school. Anya knew that her sister separating ‘not wrong’, translated to ‘really fucking weird’

_You get Clarke pregnant or something?_

“Anya,”

Her sister snickered at Lexa’s bitten snap.

_Alright, alright, I’m leaving now._

“Thanks,”

She hung up, Clarke’s expression affectionate as she watched her. Lexa cleared her throat slightly.

“You heard that,”

“Yes,”

“That joke is never funny,”

Clarke tipped her head, “It sometimes is,”

Lexa scowled, trying to ignore the rough mental sketch of her and Clarke together, in bed, but not at all asleep.

It was a tummy time for Evie later, but Anya’s knock on their apartment door came sooner than expected and had them exchanging apprehensive looks. Lexa nodded in reassurance, depositing Evie into Clarke’s arms as she went to the door.

Anya leaned on the frame, her eyes rimmed in black and slightly annoyed.

“Little sister,” she greeted, breezing in when Lexa moved.

“Anya,” she started, biting her lip. Anya paused, taking her agitation in.

“What’s going on?”

Lexa nodded to the living room a few steps away. In strides larger than an average woman’s, Anya took in the sight of Clarke on the couch, Eve swaddled and sleeping in her lap.

“Oh,” Anya breathed, her hazel eyes wide and softer than Clarke had ever seen them, “Oh Lexa,”

Her messenger bag lowered to the floor, and Lexa pushed her sister gently towards her daughter. Anya knelt right in front of Clarke without hesitation, looking the child over.

“She’s ours now,” Lexa croaked from behind her, “Clarke found her abandoned in a trash can. Social services said we can keep her. I love her, Ahn,”

Anya quietly digested this.

“What’s her name?”

“Evelyn,” Lexa said softly, “Evie,”

“Evie,” Anya echoed, seemingly amazed. She didn’t reach out to touch her or ask to hold her, simply absorbing every detail of Evie’s unblemished face with her cat-like gaze. Clarke shifted.

“Lex and I haven’t talked about anything official, yet. But would you be her godmother? So to speak?”

Anya’s eyes snapped up to Clarke, and Lexa felt her heart implode at the sensitive, caring woman on her couch.

“Okay,” Anya said. She swallowed, standing, looking a little bit lost.

“Come on, Ahn,” Lexa prompted, “Evie needs a bottle made,”

Anya nodded and followed her sister. It was only a few steps, but it let her clear her head as Lexa busied around the kitchen.

“How much have you thought about this, Lex?”

“Enough,”

Anya breathed deeply.

“And Clarke? Can you count on her?”

“I don’t think it’s possible, but she might love Evie even more than I do. It was her idea,”

Anya crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, watching her sister move around the kitchen in practiced paces. Lexa’s tone had dipped into a pool of dangerous defense. It satisfied the older woman.

“Is this guilt over Costia?”

Lexa shook her head.

“It’s not guilt,” she noted her sister’s intense focus. She’s never been able to hide from Anya and years of experience had taught her to not try from the get-go, “Maybe guilt and a savior complex started it, but Ahn. She makes me feel,” Lexa trailed, searching, “She makes me feel so much. Like gravity’s shifted, and my entire purpose in life is to take care of her. It’s nearly cheap to call it love. It feels so big,”

She bit at her lip as she waited for the bottle to warm.

“Clarke said once that being a mother was an entire identity. And that it’s only right to feel like an entirely new person,”

Anya considered the tiredness of Lexa’s eyes, the firm set of her shoulders, the perpetual twitch at the corners of her mouth. The ease in her movements. Steadiness borne not of her usual discipline but now out of elegance; gentleness.

“You’re happy,”

Lexa turned to Anya fully, unable to hide. Not from Anya.

“I am,”

Anya swallowed, looking away. The sisters stood feet apart, Lexa waiting with baited breath for Anya’s verdict. When Anya looked back, it was with a stiff smile.

“You’re going to be a great Mom, little sister,”

Anya folded her arms around her sister’s back, returning the reflexive hug Lexa had initiated. The pair could count on two hands the number of times they had hugged in their time together. Physical affection was not a strong suit of Anya’s. But pressing into the strong beat of her sister’s heart, she liked to think that hugs were created for moments of importance.

Moments like your younger sister adopting a baby.

When they released, Anya smirked.

“Godmother, then?”

Lexa smiled.

“If Clarke says so, I guess it’s possible,”

“Tell Indra yet?”

“You’re the first,”

A raised eyebrow, “I’m flattered. You need to call Indra,”

Lexa nearly groaned. She pursed her lips.

“I’m not ready,”

“The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be,”

“We’re considering not even telling Clarke’s mother. Would it be so different?”

Anya’s expression twitched curious.

“What’s wrong with Clarke’s parents?”

Lexa grimaced. She leaning, glancing through the window into the living room. Clarke was completely occupied on her reading, having turned on the television to the weather channel at some point. Lexa’s heart softened. Clarke was trying to give her privacy, if only auditory.

“Her father had MS,” she sighed. Anya gave a bleak hum of understanding, Lexa nodding in affirmation, “A few years ago, he passed away. Clarke was devastated. Drop out of school, quit painting, drink until the bottom of the bottle finds you, type devastated. Then she found out her mother had signed a DNR without telling anyone,”

“Shit,” Anya murmured.

“Yeah,” Lexa wrung the bottle between her hands, “She’s doing alright now, still gets upset about missing him on her birthdays, but she’s fine. Her relationship with her mother, though,”

“Complicated,”

Lexa nodded.

“Well fuck,” Anya huffed, “Who would have thought your little blonde cheerleader had not only surprise brains, but some dark and twisties?”

Lexa hummed, her jaw twitching at Clarke’s pain boiled down. Anya had a variety of coping mechanisms. People processed trauma differently.

“Try to censor yourself, would you?”

Anya’s smile was slow and mocking, Lexa rolling her eyes.

“Come on, Godmother. Let’s see you feed my kid,”

She walked away, tossing the bottle to Anya’s suddenly panicked hands. With Clarke pressed to her side and studying, Lexa had never felt so comfortable.

  

* * *

 

In the end, they decided to have a party after all the important introductions were made. That is, Anya, Raven, Octavia, Lincoln, and Indra.

And Abigail Griffin.

Clarke had been racked with nerves to introduce Indra to Eve. Not because she was worried about the woman’s reaction to Evelyn. But because Lexa hadn’t slept the night before, Evie keeping them both awake. They’d received an official noise complaint from their apartment’s landlord, and Lexa’s few days spent at school were becoming more labor intensive on top of work.

Clarke was stressed because Lexa was stressed.

Indra had stepped into their apartment, taken one sweeping glance through the space, and settled her eyes on Lexa holding Evelyn.

“This is why you have not called me?”

Thirty years in the United States, and Indra’s accent has only slightly mellowed. At a terse twist of her head, Clarke took the baby from Lexa’s arms, wanting to press a hand to Lexa’s spine in comfort.

The second Evie was away, Indra exploded into a fluttering, shaming rain of Yoruba, Lexa standing firm through it all. Anya simply leaned against the wall, watching intently.

Though Lexa understood Indra’s native language well, she couldn’t speak it. When it came time, all Indra allowed were simple ‘yes’ and ‘no’ responses. Later, Lexa’s head reared like a stallions, concern in her eyes, confusion crumpling her eyebrows.

Clarke relaxed. Lexa only looked like that when receiving gifts she didn’t think she had deserved.

Indra gave terse nods, clapped Lexa on the shoulder, and turned to Anya. She spat something in a pointed warble of Nigerian syllables, Lexa snorting. Anya colored in either embarrassment or anger.

The Woods clan stayed late into the night that day. When Lexa crawled into bed, she was smiling through her recount of everything her mother had said to her.

“Be good to her, Lexa,” she mimicked Indra’s doldrum tones, “Be patient when you believe in your heart that all the patience in the world is gone. Be kind when you are furious. Be calm when you are worried. Never forget that you must teach her everything you know, and once you have, you must learn alongside her,”

Clarke’s eyebrows were raised, impressed.

“Wow. That sounds a lot scarier in Yoruba,”

Lexa grinned into the dark.

“And then she said I was a fool,”

“That sounds a lot more like it,”

“Yes,” Lexa sighed, fond.

Clarke hummed.

“One mother down, one to go,”

“Really?” her voice frowned, Clarke shifting in the sheets beside her, “What changed your mind?”

The blonde rubbed her face.

“We have too much going on for this to hang over our heads. And I don’t really care what my mother thinks. Evie’s ours. Whether she likes it or not,”

Lexa let the silence bleed into Clarke’s declaration. She gave a low hum of acknowledgement. Clarke rolled over in bed to face her.

“What,”

Lexa clicked in the back of her throat.

“But you do care, Clarke,” she exhaled an audible breath of apology, “You care what she thinks,”

Clarke lay still, turning the thought over in her mind. She closed her eyes.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I do,”

Lexa flexed her jaw. Reached to touch Clarke’s hand under the comforter, Clarke clasping it reflexively.

“Sooner, rather than later?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Lexa felt the darkness press into Clarke’s breathing, her hand going slack.

“I’m just scared she’ll disapprove. Tell me I’m making a mistake. Tell me I should change my mind. To leave you,”

Lexa’s heart stuttered, surprised at even the notion. The implication that a stranger could have heard and thought they were together.

“I’m not going to, Lex,” Clarke’s tone was tiredly amused. Lexa huffed a laugh. Clarke breathed through her nose, continuing. She was warm, and safe, and Evie was asleep. Nights were made for feelings like these.

“I’m just afraid that if she says anything like that. Or anything about Dad,” she swallowed, “I’ll hate her for it. I don’t want to hate her anymore,”

Clarke wiggled in the sheets, trying not to let sadness steal into her comfort.

“I’m so tired of hating her, Lex. I don’t want to do it anymore. It’s too hard,”

Lexa opened her arms, the comforter lifting to free Clarke’s movements. The blonde curled backwards into Lexa’s overwhelming warmth, moving her hair to keep Lexa from having to eat it. It was a move so easy resolve centered in her chest. When Lexa spoke, it was like the world had melted away.

“You want to forgive her, Clarke,” she whispered into the blonde locks, her breath warming Clarke’s neck, “Forgiveness doesn’t mean you absolve her from consequences,”

“I miss her sometimes. But I can’t just go back to how things were before. It wouldn’t feel right,”

“It doesn’t have to be all or nothing,” Lexa murmured, “Being on speaking terms again doesn’t mean she’s so involved in your life if you don’t want her to be,”

“She was a really great Mom up until she wasn’t,”

“Call her, Clarke,” Lexa shifted a thigh to press support along every inch of her best friend, “You don’t have to tell her about Evie if it’s too much too soon,”

“She could be a really great Grandma,”

“I know,”

“Would you be alright with that?”

“Evie’s never going to run out of people who love her,” Lexa closed eyes danced with images of Thanksgivings; Christmases; Birthdays, “I’m more than okay with that as long as you’re happy,”

“Thanks, Lex,”

Two days later, Clarke came home with red-rimmed eyes but a tentative smile on her lips.

She didn’t let go of Evie for an entire hour.

Raven had been the one to insist on a baby shower.

Thrown at Raven’s slightly larger apartment, it turned out to be less of a shower and more of a party with gifts, as Lexa and Anya had jointly stonewalled any implication of baby games.

With Evelyn asleep in Octavia’s arms, Clarke and Lexa relaxed amongst their friends.

“This is the much gayer version of accidentally getting knocked up, you know that right?” Octavia’s lips were twisted, “You have a baby together. Without the fun part,”

Lexa rolled her eyes, watching Clarke smiling reaction.

“I’ve got a baby, and I got to keep my boobs. I definitely came out with a better deal than anyone else,”

Their circle of friends laughed with her, Harper seated on Wells’ lap, Lincoln watching Octavia with a baby slightly mournfully, his new plus one Ontari pressed to his side. Bellamy reclined next to John Murphy, playing some online game.

“Not to mention you both skipped having to give birth,” Monty walk into the room with Monroe, and the group fell into discussion of the finer points of having babies vaginally.

It was raucous, and wonderful, and Lexa felt her very soul settle in response to her friends’ support. Granted, they were mostly Clarke’s friends, but they’d all been together for a few years now.

They received a mountain of diapers, cloths, wipes, clothes, portable changing stations, and more. Lexa'd been buried in the baby and parenting books Wells had gifted for half of the party. It was relief of every kind. Clarke had refereed a thumb wrestle between Anya and Octavia over who was got to feed Evie.

Unsurprisingly, people were less enthused over the burping process. Lexa had rallied like a champion.

“I’ve never expected anyone to see it,” Anya swirled her drink, eyes fixed on her sister burping Evie over her shoulder absently, Clarke speaking with animated hands under Lexa’s twinkling eyes, “Because Lexa’s a hardass in most respects. Keeps to herself, works hard, never asked for shit. But she’s just one of those people who was made to nurture,”

Raven tipped her head, eyes fixed on Anya’s sharp features. They stood in a corner of the kitchen, pausing from the madness of Bellamy, Murphy, and Nathan arguing the merits of some Congressional decision. Raven relaxed into Anya’s gravitational presence.

“Lexa’s always been a sweet kid. Even fresh out of the system, she was kind,” Anya scoffed softly, “But she learned to hide it. Way deep down. And she’s good at that. I never thought anyone but me would ever know,” she sighed.

“And then Clarke,”

Anya’s hazel eyes slid to the smirking Latina.

“And then Clarke,”

Raven smiled broadly.

“I know what you mean,” she tossed onyx hair, “Clarke used to be a fucking wildfire before Lexa. You’ve heard the stories. But your sister,” a playful shake of her head, “Your sister did something to her. They’re freaks. Who meets their soul mate, lives with them, loves them, and doesn’t realize they’re who they are?”

“Morons,” Anya stifles.

“Yup,”

Anya cast a lazy, smirking glance to the woman.

“I’ve generally kept out of it, but maybe we should do them both an unwelcome favor,”

Raven lifted a brow.

“What makes you think I haven’t been dropping hints for years?”

Anya scoffed, “We’ve all been dropping hints. I’m talking about starting to throw them,”

Raven snorted, “Lexa’s more of a piano-on-the-head sort of hinter. But I like your style,”

“It’s only in my Godchild’s best interest to have a stable household,”

“And stability is fire-tested,” Raven smirked, drinking from her cup thoughtfully.

“Hey,”

Lexa and Clarke had joined them, Evie’s expression pouted and flushed threateningly.

“Uh-oh,” Raven smiled, Clarke looking harried and nodding.

“Yeah. She’s really tired,”

“Big day,” Anya grinned, soft as Raven had never seen before.

“We’re going to head out,” Lexa said, rocking the baby in a preemptive soothe, “We can’t tell you how nice this was, Raven. Thank you,”

Clarke leaned to hug her oldest friend, kissing her cheek loudly, “If Evie didn’t already have two moms,” she winked threateningly.

Raven grinned.

“Before I forget. Lex,” Anya shorted out, “I gave your number to a girl. She’s probably going to text you next week,”

Clarke’s eyes blew wide, Lexa stilling entirely, “What? Why would you do that?”

At her pause and tone of alarm, Eve finally found her breaking point. Sharp hiccupping cries cracked the air, and Lexa grimaced. Clarke cleared her throat and waved to the pair as a second thanks and goodbye.

Raven waved back, watching them collect their things and head out.

“That was genius,” she sighed, “Who’d you give her number to?”

Anya smirked, “Oh, I didn’t. But with the way Clarke reacted, I’m definitely going to now,”

Raven burst into a laugh.

“Actually, I’ve got someone,” she dug around to search her phone, “Her name’s Niylah. Clarke kind of hates her. She didn’t do anything, really, but Niylah was a rebound of Clarke’s ex way too soon,”

“Perfect,”

"You don't think this is too much for them, right?" Raven slowed, "I mean, they just adopted a newborn,"

Anya scoffed. 

"I don't think those two have ever had a serious fight. They're just rainbows and gay secret smiles and shit all the time. They're going to be fine with a little pressure," she shrugged, "I've been around them and Eve. It's sickening. They never even disagree,"

 

* * *

  

“Lexa!” Clarke growled through sleep-saturated grit. She rolled her eyes and swooped to pick up the shrieking baby, her darling face blushed with frustration.

Immediately, Clarke went to rocking and soothing her, and she glared at the brunette.

“What in the hell are you doing?” she nearly shouted, trying to keep her voice level for her baby.

Lexa swallowed and flexed her jaw. Guilt and pain hammered around her chest at Evie’s miserable expression, tears shining on her cheeks. The brunette tried to steel herself.

“I read that we have to let her cry sometimes, Clarke,”

The blonde, exhaustion tingeing her posture, had to talk over Evelyn’s cries. She had worked a 12 hour clinical shift, and stood for 11.5 of those 12. Her expression was as dark as the circles under her eyes felt, and she snapped.

“That’s a terrible idea, Lexa!”

“But all the books say-“

“That!” Clarke bit, not stopping her rock of Evie, who wasn’t showing signs of quieting, “That, right there! That is what is a terrible idea. I'm going to kill Wells. Trying to parent out of a manual? Come on, Lexa,”

The brunette reared her head back.

“Clarke, we have to consult experts on this!” she itched to soothe Evie, but Clarke clearly didn’t want anything invading her personal space right now.

“That’s such BS! Who gives a crap what your books say, Lexa?! Parent your child!”

“I am parenting her!”

“Oh yeah? Could have fooled me!”

Lexa’s heart twisted, “What do you think I was doing, _all day_ , while you were at the hospital?”

“I don’t know! Apparently, reading!”

Lexa felt like Clarke had slapped her. Her look of shock was brief, before anger took over. She grit her teeth and swallowed hard. There was the urge to shout, the urge to cry, to apologize, to blame. She cleared the saliva from her mouth in an incredulous twist of her jaw and spoke to the floor.

“I’m going t-to,” she stuttered and growled at herself, “I’m going,”

Without sparing a glance backwards, she left the room. Clarke followed like a storm cloud to their bedroom and found Lexa rucking jeans up her long legs.

“It’s 3 in the morning, Lexa. Where are you going?”

“Out,”

Lexa fetched a jacket and pushed past the woman, Evie settled into quiet hiccups and whimpers.

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re leaving?” Clarke’s voice flexed between furious and irritated.

“I’ll be back,” Lexa sniped, reaching the front door, “I don’t have my phone, so if you want to keep bitching at me, leave a fucking message,”

She left with a tremendous slam, and huffed as the DC air bit into her skin. Walking off at a clip, her long legs carried her fast and far, and she was left to work off the steam she had accumulated. It was hours before she found her way home again.

“Fuck!” she whispered. Why did Clarke have to put Evie’s stroller right by the closet? Clumsily, she rightened the fallen contraption and tiptoed to the kitchen. Her head swam blissfully, and she tried to be quiet as she fetched a glass of water.

She considered her efforts relatively successful.

Stumbling to the living room, she collapsed onto the couch. Closing her eyes, she grimaced before pulling a bright red ball out from under her back. Another shift, and she held a clear blue pacifier.

She groaned.

“No wonder you were crying,” Lexa grit her teeth and swallowed past the knot in her throat. Thoughts clouded through her lucid mind, and her eyes started to water. Doubt, guilt, shame, and regret tore through her with each image and message her alcohol-soaked mind spat out.

Before she knew it, fat, hot tears were streaking down her temples into her hair, and she was clutching the pacifier and ball to her chest. Lexa rolled to her side and cried, forehead pressed into the back of the couch.

A creak of the floor was her only warning, and then Clarke was holding her. Lexa broke.

“It was her binky,” she babbled and held the object up, “she wanted her favorite binky. I knew I should have looked to see if she had everything, but I second-guessed myself. I made her a bottle today that wasn’t very warm, and she didn’t want to go down for her nap. And I don’t think she liked how I dressed her today. I can never tell what fabrics she doesn’t like,” Lexa was crying and clutching at Clarke’s arm around her.

“And you were right,” she sobbed, “I was reading today. I just- I don’t know what I’m doing, and I read because if I didn’t, I’d screw up all the time, and I’d _hurt_ her, Clarke,” she choked and curled, “But I _hurt_ her anyway! Fuck! I just- I just- I love her more than anything, Clarke, I swear. I swear I’m trying!”

“Lexa. Lexa,” Clarke cooled. She propped herself up to cover Lexa’s long body as well as she could, and she dropped minute, shallow and repeating kisses onto Lexa’s temple, “Lexa breathe for me, hm? Just breathe,”

Lexa did. Clarke started to speak in nonsense circles, her voice low and soothing.

Once Lexa regained control of herself, Clarke buried her nose into Lexa’s chestnut hair. She smelled a little like Evie, and a lot like whiskey and smoke.

“Lex, I didn’t mean it,” she hushed, and her heart grew for this woman, “I was tired, and stressed, and I’m sorry I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair of me, and I should have tried harder,”

She lowered back down to fit behind Lexa once more. Clarke swallowed, but was grateful when Lexa stroked her arm. Still listening.

“I only meant that your instincts are better than your books,” Clarke hummed into the space between her shoulders. Lexa closed her eyes and let the blonde’s soft warmth soothe her. It was selfish, but she needed Clarke. Needed her to fix her. Nothing else would work.

“You’re just naturally so good with her, Lex. You know your baby better than those strangers do, and I need you to know that I think you’re the best mother in the world. You work so hard. For Evie. I know you would give her the moon if you could,”

She breathed.

“I was horrible to you,” Clarke choked, “We need to be a united front for her. And my communication skills sucked just then,”

Lexa allowed herself a private smile in the dark before swallowing.

“I shouldn’t have left,”

Clarke nodded against her back.

“No, you shouldn’t have. I was wrong for snapping, but that really wasn’t okay with me, Lexa,”

The woman sighed.

“Can we sleep while we have the chance? I’m still tipsy,”

Clarke chuckled into her, Lexa’s chest rumbling with the sound. She smiled at the ticklish feeling, both physical and emotional.

“Sure, drunkie. Need some water?”

Lexa hummed her dissent.

“Wanna move to bed?”

Another groan of rejection, and Clarke’s lips twisted even as her eyes drew heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially my drunk project. 
> 
> With Love,   
> K


	3. Chapter 3

It’s clear from the second week at home that Evie loved the water. Bath time is her undisputed favorite activity. Like clockwork, she cries when she’s removed and dried.

“Little Mermaid,” Lexa croons, proud beyond words. Clarke thinks that Lexa would be proud of Evie for managing to put her own toes in her mouth. Many days after she has this thought, Evie does, and Lexa’s phone background evidences the event.

Clarke’s sitting on their toilet’s lid, flashcards in hand and forgotten as she watches Lexa bathe their daughter.

Most of it is murmured nonsense between the two of them, Lexa on her knees bent over, Evie in her infant bathtub, but Clarke catches Lexa’s praise and encouragement. It makes her smile nearly as much as Evie. Her expression grins in toothless gaps of facial experimentation, her balled fists swiping the water at her sides. She’s too young to truly smile, but all of Eve’s expressions are in her eyes; in her sounds. When Lexa cups the warm water over her belly, she wiggles in joy.

“She’s going to the Olympics, Clarke,” Lexa smiles.

“I’ll call the YMCA in the morning,”

“Hm. Don’t they have swimming classes for babies?”

“Wait. You’re serious?”

Lexa looks over her shoulder to Clarke’s amused expression and shrugs, “Not to be a hard case. I’m not about to pageant mom her, but I think it could be fun for all of us,”

“You want me to go?”

Lexa lifted a droll eyebrow, “Like you don’t want to,”

Clarke hummed dramatically, Lexa rolling her eyes and turning back to Evie.

“Eve’s going to the Olympics, Clarke. Are you really going to let our daughter grow up resenting you for not supporting her from day one? What if she rebels and starts smoking and wearing leather jackets?”

“So, basically turns into her Mom? She can borrow the cigarettes you keep in your nightstand. Think she’ll be a size 4?”

Lexa smothered a laugh, echoing Evie’s grunts of newly discovered sound.

“It’s inappropriate to bring up my shame cigarettes in front of her,”

“As opposed to you guilting me into a swim class on pain of pink highlights and slammed doors?”

“Yes,”

“Noted,” Clarke aired, smiling, “You know, it’d also be a good way to meet other parents,”

Even with her back to Clarke, the blonde knew Lexa had scrunched her nose. The smile was in her tone as she goaded, “Come on, Lex. Other parents would be good. We can make friends and have play dates,”

“Evie plays,”

“-and have a babysitting pool,”

Lexa paused.

“So you’ll call in the morning?”

“I’ll call in the morning,”

Clarke does.

‘Water Babies’ is the 10am class on Sundays at their local Y, and everyone has a blast. Clarke made an entire event out of shopping for a swimsuit for Eve, Lexa smiling patiently through the entire affair. They finally settled on a picnic-checkered number, enough to look cute and allow her movement.

Come 10:30 on Sunday, and Evie is confused and positively joyful. Her features flexed in her unpracticed smile, arching and rolling in Lexa’s arms in the water. Clarke mostly stood or floated nearby, watching with sunlight in her heart. There was a coach at the front of seven couples or so, instructing on dips and twirls and hand placement.

It was silly. It was a waste of money.

Lexa loved it.

She loved Evie’s constant stream of babbling nonsense. How even in the cavernous echo of the pool’s acoustics, she can pick out her daughter’s sounds amongst the many. She loved Evie’s strange calm in the weightlessness; loved the wholesome feeling of being surrounded by people who loved their children too.

And Lexa loved Clarke.

The blonde swam in gentle circles around her, every so often pressing wetly into her side or front to sandwich Eve in a cocoon of love. Clarke took her once, bouncing and twisting in the clear chlorine to the sounds of her own affection, a blinding smile on her face. Clarke listened well and loved even better. It helped that she wore a pure white one-piece suit, the chest cut out in a crisscrossing diamond pattern. Her honey blonde hair was drenched to a dishwater brunette gold, rivulets of water beading her skin, tracing her collarbones; her neck.

Lexa loved it all.

A while later, yet too soon, the class eventually ended. Clarke collected their things from the pool-side bench, toweling Evie and herself. Lexa had taken her turn first, slipping running shorts on with a racer-back tank top. She held Evie and waited for Clarke.

After a few moments wasted glancing at Lexa holding their daughter, Clarke was ready. She noticed a man holding his son next to her and smiled good-naturedly.

“Have a good time?”

A massive grin, “Oh yeah. My wife and I are regulars. How about yourself?”

“A blast,” she agreed, “I’m Clarke, by the way,”

“Oh!” the man struggled to free a hand from his support of his son, “Brad,” they shook. Brad jiggled the baby in his arms, “And this is Ian,”

Clarke ducks down and waves, “Hi Ian. My daughter’s name is Evie,” she turns and points to Lexa, the brunette fixing her attention on the interaction.

“Good to see this isn’t a couples only class anymore,” Brad smiles, “I get tired of a bunch of bored dudes and their overly energetic wives. Or bored dudes and their overly energetic husbands,” he leaned in at what was clearly the punch line of the joke.

Clarke raised her eyebrows, a mocking drawl of a laugh on her lips and any respect she had draining away in an instant, “Ah, is that right?”

“Yeah,” Brad shifted Ian in his arms, “There was a gay couple in the last class. Kept making everyone uncomfortable with their comments,”

“Well we certainly hope not to do that. I’m bisexual,” Clarke says graciously. She waves to Lexa now standing next to her, “This is Lexa, Evie’s other Mom,”

“Huh,” Brad looks back and forth between them, stunned bordering delighted, “Well then, that’s – that’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Clarke stifles a laugh while Lexa just holds Evie and bounces silently.

“I mean, I guess?” Clarke tries, “No better time to be gay,”

Brad gives an overly raucous laugh and gestures to the woman behind him,

“Janet! Come meet Clarke and Lexa,”

A woman perfectly entitled to rule a homeowners association sashayed over. Plain, matted brunette hair with brown eyes so dark they looked black. She smiled, lips painted salmon even after a water class at 10 in the morning.

“Hello!” she crows, voice helium-cracked and silicone sweet, “Nice to meet you Clarke and Lexa,”

Brad puffed up, eager and altogether a let down. His smile should have been accompanied by a cigar.

“They’re lesbians, Janet,”

“You’re kidding!” she squeals, delighted.

“Clarke is actually bisexual,” Lexa intervenes softly, Evie wiggling an arm forward for Clarke, who takes her reflexively, Lexa not batting an eye at the transfer.

“Oh, of course!” Janet breezes, “It’s 2018, after all. You know, I have a lesbian-gay cousin who says that there’s no such thing as a monogamous gay couple anymore,”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Lex,”

“Oh, no! I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” Janet rushes, “That’s just what she says,” she bats a hand through the air, “But it’s really great to see two mothers, we just met two dads in a previous class. Did you tell them, Brad?”

“I told them,”

Janet beams, “Representation in public is so important,”

“Uhm, I agree,” Clarke cast a glance to Lexa, who could only look back while Janet steamrolled on.

“People just want to know so much about you! About your parenting style and relationship dynamic. Like, are you going to let your daughter wear pink?”

“I mean-“

“Oh, I know, it’s such a gendered question, right?”

Brad nods sagely while Clarke’s jaw tries to kick in gear.

“Not really, it’s whatever she likes-“

“Where’s she from?” Janet asks, her eyes running over Evelyn greedily, “I hear fertility clinics now have such high standards,”

Lexa felt cold anger crackle into her spine, muted by shock. She didn’t know whether this was actually happening.

“Of course, neither of you look like you actually carried her,” Janet trickles into a laugh Clarke reflexively tried to return, failing, “You must have used a surrogate! Oh, I see. Though surely you’re ordering your breast milk. It’s so much healthier,”

Brad’s eyes shift to Clarke’s chest, presumably gauging the volume of unused nutrient.

Lexa’s tongue feels molten, Clarke sensing the slow simmer under her best friend’s skin. She buckles on a tight smile.

“She’s adopted, actually,”

Janet seems to brighten from her momentary discomfort.

“Oh my word! That’s just precious. Very good Samaritan of you,” she tries on a tease, “Very Madonna,”

Lexa’s actually flushing around her ears, her weight shifting restlessly. Clarke steels herself. Lexa flighty and feeling trapped has disastrous consequences.

“But what about you two?” Janet exclaims like an idea had thundered into her. She goes smug and eyes the two women, “Okay, so who’s the butch and who’s the femme?”

“Excuse me?” Lexa explodes in incredulousness, and Clarke props Evie on her hip in order to free her hand. She decisively pushes on Lexa’s lower back.

“Okay. You know, it was nice meeting you guys,” she grimaced, “But we just remembered we’ve got somewhere to be,”

“Oh, of course!” Janet smiled, Brad taking Ian’s hand to wave at them, “See you soon!”

Clarke has to glue her hand to Lexa’s back to keep her from turning around.

Finally in the car, Clarke was trying her absolute best to keep a straight face as her best friend raged.

“ _They’re lesbians, Janet_ ,” Lexa mocked, rolling her eyes, “Like we’re zoo attractions. Honestly. We live in Washington DC. DOMA was overturned here. It should count as a gay home field advantage,”

Clarke tipped her head, “I think headquarters are actually in Seattle. Maybe Portland,”

“Clarke,”

She smiled, amused at Lexa’s dry frustration, “They just need education,”

“And since when is it a stereotype for gay couples to all be poly?”

“I think it’s a California rumor,”

“It’s insulting,”

“All stereotypes are insulting,”

“Yes, well. I don’t like Brad,” Lexa gave an almighty huff while Clarke hid her smile, “He kept staring at your chest,”

“It’s a great chest,”

“He’s married,”

“ _He_ could be poly,”

Lexa lifted an eyebrow while Clarke grinned outright.

“Clarke, if that man is into anything kinkier than occasionally having sex with a night light on, I’ll kiss him,”

Clarke broke up into laughter. Behind her, Evie squealed in giggles.

“Oh my,” Clarke twisted around, “Look who’s awake. Did you have a nice nap? Sleeping so you can keep your Mommies up later?” she reached for a stuffed donut and played in teasing jerks of movement, continuing.

“I’ve never understood why people feel the need to bring up their acquaintance gays. Like we’re all in a GroupMe thread together,”

Lexa snorted.

“To be fair, if you’ve been out long enough, you do know all your friends’ exes in the tri-county area. Think she’ll go down when we get home?”

“Hm,” Clarke sighed, “Probably. She’s a power nap champ. But we really should just go to the store while we’re out,”

“She won’t like it,”

Clarke hummed, “Well we’ve got the good binky in the bag,”

“I’m pointing at you when she starts crying in the grocery,”

  

* * *

  

It's three weeks after that when Clarke bursts through the door on a Saturday morning. Fresh from a 12 hour clinical, all Lexa can do is wait.  

“I want rights,” Clarke paced in a frantic quickstep, “I can’t do this with Evie, Lexa, I am not going to do this. I want rights, and access, and validity as her mother. I am not some stranger or hobbyist or whatever the _fuck_ those self righteous, stuck up _bitches_ from water class might think I am just because I didn’t shit myself in front of a room full of people to get my daughter,”

If Lexa hadn’t been so pained to see her hurt, she would have laughed.

“-because she is my daughter,” Clarke worked her arms to hold around her middle, planting firmly in the center of the living room. She glared at Lexa’s patience, “I am her mother, Lexa, I am,”

Lexa didn’t respond, watching her friend critically.

“Clarke,” she said gently, “What happened?”

The blonde screwed up her face and looked away, rubbing her lips together. Her blue eyes clouded with memories, and her ire projected in a passionate monotone. Lexa wanted to hold her.

“A man came into the hospital today. Looking for his son. He wanted to see him, find out why he was there, talk to a doctor. Typical parent stuff. His son wasn’t my patient, so I’m not sure why he was upset. But his ex-wife had sole custody and I had to watch security escort him to the doors. Granted, he was behaving recklessly, but. I can’t say I’d be any more collected if Evie were in the hospital and I didn’t know why,”

By the end of it, Clarke gave a small sigh and ran a hand over her face.

“So I need. Documents. Papers. Something. I need to see something with my name, and Evie’s name, and your name - on it, saying we’re her parents, and that she’s our daughter,”

Lexa’s heart twisted.

“You can’t,”

Clarke’s eyes snapped to her.

“What?”

Lexa swallowed dryly, “You’re going to be her legal guardian, not her… mother. According to the District of Columbia, you aren’t adopting her,”

“Just you,” Clarke realized. Lexa didn’t nod. Nodding would have been indicative of agreement. A few heartbeats later, Clarke looked up from the carpet with fire in her eyes.

“I want to,” she set her shoulders, “We’re going to. Together. We’re going to adopt her together. I know you, Lexa. The legality is important to you, and it’s important for her, so it’s important to me. What’s it going to take?”

Lexa lifted her head like she wasn’t going to be affected by what happened next. She breathed.

“Washington DC doesn’t allow unmarried couples to adopt,”

“Then let’s get married,”

“What?”

“Or how about a common law marriage?” Clarke was on the warpath, and Lexa left like she’d be sucker punched in the chest, “That’s a thing, right? Do we qualify for that?”

“No,” Lexa’s numb lips moved, “Washington DC doesn’t recognize them anyway,”

“Fuck, Lexa, mind telling me what Washington DC does recognize then?”

“Domestic partnerships,”

“Let’s do that then,” Clarke ground, “Have one of those, whatever,”

“Clarke, I think we should talk about this first,”

Clarke ran an exasperated hand through her hair, “I know, I know, I’m just-“

“Agitated,”

“Yes!”

Lexa considered her roommate for a moment. She stepped carefully, like she were approaching a wild animal. Clarke sent her an unhappy glance but didn’t react negatively to the approach. Lexa offered her hand.

Clarke eyed it for a moment, knowing fully that taking it meant leaving her restless comfort zone. A suffering exhale, and she took it. Instantly, Lexa’s face went smooth and smiling, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Stop it,”

Lexa bit her lip, her green eyes lighted.

“Let’s walk around the block,”

“Can we stop and get coffee?”

“Yes,” Lexa brought Clarke’s hand to her face and pressed the tired knuckles to her lips, her heart absolutely devoted to the woman in front of her, “Change. I’ll pack the stroller,”

Clarke huffed, empty of threat or irritation. Lexa let her oceanic calm wash over her best friend. Clarke was justified in her feelings, Lexa didn’t want to diminish that. But now they were allowed to fix it. Make her whole again.

By the time Clarke was collected enough to listen, she had half an iced coffee down, and the park was crowded. They paced easily, rollerblades and runners passing by between the din of a sunny day’s public concerto.

“Now, the benefits of domestic partnership, legislated in 1992, are evaluated in a four factor test developed and updated every fiscal year, the first being-“

“-Okay easy counselor,” Clarke cut Lexa off, the brunette blinking up from the detailed note on her phone. Clarke was smiling, her voice crushed velvet and relaxed, “I’d like the un-annotated version, please,”

Lexa cleared her throat, wrinkling her nose self-consciously. Clarke bumped her hip into hers, a gentle affection in her eyes. Lexa laughed.

“Fine,” she looked back to her phone, summarizing as she read, “If we go with a domestic partnership, we’ll be granted the legal rights of immediate family members. Hospital visitation, insurance coverage, medical decision-making, estate planning, the works. The same extends over any dependents we register for,”

“Evie,” Clarke nodded.

“Yes. Because we’re over 18, are sane, are single, and haven’t done this before, all we need to do is prove we live in the same place,”

Clarke shot her a droll look.

“And how complicated will that be?”

Lexa gave a slight plead of an expression.

“Only my name is on our lease, so we’ll need to file an exemption affidavit and appear together before a Registrar for the application,”

Clarke groaned, leaning over the stroller, “Jesus, Lexa. When were you going to tell me all this?”

Lexa grimaced.

“I’m sorry. I thought it would be better after school ended,”

Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Of course it’d be more convenient then, but I can’t be comfortable knowing I don’t have rights to my kid. It’s way worse trying to study with this bothering me,”

Lexa nodded, understanding. They took a few easy paces in quiet, before Clarke tipped her head, suddenly suspicious and smiling.

“So, have you already filed the affidavit?”

Lexa bristled, “No,”

Clarke lifted a brow. Lexa looked away.

“The paperwork is in my desk. I already scanned your driver’s license,”

Clarke sagged sideways into Lexa, laughing too hard to stay upright. Lexa grinned, a hand laying on Evie’s stroller to keep it straight.

She was too aware of her pinky brushing Clarke’s.

 

* * *

 

“Lex, Octavia wants to go to a gay bar,”

“What in the hell for?”

Clarke shrugged, folding clothes. She watches Lexa spin and dance Evie for a minute, a smile pressing into her cheeks helplessly.

She glanced at her phone on the bed, reading.

“Raven says she’s having a gay panic,”

Lexa slides an eyebrow upwards, “Octavia is straight,”

“Usually,” Clarke murmurs, typing, “Apparently she’s been inspired by a ridiculously hot girl on her lacrosse team,”

“Ah,”

“So she wants to go to a gay bar and quote ‘needs veterans to help her get laid’. Raven’s words,”

“Baby gay nerves,”

“I’m thinking so,” Clarke finished her text, “I told Raven we’d have to get a sitter, but we’re in,”

Lexa nearly pouted, “A night out to a gay bar is a waste of a sitter,”

“True,” Clarke matched socks absently from her perch on the bed, “But a night out supporting Octavia isn’t,”

“Octavia doesn’t need a cadre of women to wing for her. That is not support. That is thirst,”

“Lexa,”

The brunette sighed and nodded her assent. Clarke smiled.

“It’ll mean a lot to her,”

“It better,” Lexa grumbled, “I’m too old to be in gay bars,”

Clarke laughed, chucking a pair of jeans in Lexa’s direction.

“Get dressed, we’re meeting Anya, Raven, and O at 8,”

Lexa complained all the way to the bar's counter, and didn't stop until a drink was in her hand, another already in her blood. She smiled at Clarke, surprised when a drink interrupted their conversation.  

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” Clarke told the bartender. The woman only grinned.

“From the handsome lady at the end, there,”

Lexa looked with Clarke, and found a warm pair of brown eyes looking back. The woman raised her beer, and Lexa ignored the stab of what could only be jealousy. She tossed back what was left of her drink when Clarke took the glass and smiled at Brown Eyes in return politely.

“You don’t even like tequila,”

“Only when I can taste it,”

Lexa huffed a small laugh and looked away from Brown Eyes, who moved from the bar to circle closer. Her jaw flexed.

“I’m going to find Octavia,” she said, Clarke pouting immediately.

“Stay and flirt with me, please?” A hint of a real frown crept into Clarke’s eyes, and Lexa folded immediately, her expression going faux put-upon as she stepped closer. Clarke grinned triumphantly.

Lexa waved to the bartender, pretending like she was busy for a moment.

Taking her place.

“Hey,” Brown Eyes had entered the scene, lips twisted so professionally that Clarke assumed picking up girls was her day job, “I’m Jasmine, but my friends call me Jack. Your name, beautiful?”

Clarke could feel Lexa’s derisive hushed exhale of a laugh against her side.

“Clarke,” she dipped her head, “But I’m gonna have to stop you, Jack. I’m flattered, but I’m not interested,”

Jack reared her head back in genuine surprise. And lowered it just as quickly, the glint in her eye sparkling nearly as brightly as the hoop through her septum.

“Not even a little bit curious?” she smiled, a finger nudging the tequila sunrise she had ordered for Clarke, “I promise I’m not thinking anything funny,”

Clarke’s eyebrow ticked disbelievingly. Right on cue, a beautifully sculpted hand came down over the rim of the offered glass, it’s other slipping around Clarke’s waist.

“She’s not particularly concerned with what you think,”

Clarke shivered, her gut twisting with electric satisfaction at the confusion in Jack’s eyes as she fit pieces together. Confusion, irritation, and no small amount of jealousy.

Without looking, Clarke knew that Lexa was everything Jack wanted to be. Or at least what she was trying to convince other people she was. Lexa stood like a sculpture granted life, voluntary in rest: unyielding in her relaxation. Like she had always occupied the space she stood in. Quiet, unwavering confidence. Clarke knew it. Everyone knew it.

It’s why she and Clarke intentionally orbited each other in bars and clubs. They were mutually beneficial in deterring the abnormally high rate of interested parties. _The curse of the unreasonably attractive_ , Clarke mused as her eyes roved over Lexa’s marble features.

Lexa's green eyes flashed when Jack hadn’t moved, but instead ran her eyes appreciatively over Lexa’s heeled boots, skinny jeans, and clinging black halter top. Clarke’s mood turned sharp. In a rush, she was impatient and through with the self-decided stud in front of her. Before Jack could speak whatever imbecilic thoughts had wormed to the tip of her tongue, Clarke traced Lexa’s hand on her hip up to her arm, bringing the woman around so Clarke could pull Lexa to press against her.

“Hey, babe, that reminds me,” she croons. Lexa’s blood curdled in her veins at the smoke in Clarke’s crushed gravel tones. The blonde plays with Lexa’s hair and looks over her face devotedly.

“Would you call the sitter for me? I’m worried about Evie, and I want to check in and make sure our baby girl’s alright,”

Jack’s eyes were blown but tight, and without another word she turned and disappeared into packed bodies and rainbow flashing lights.

Lexa’s chest heated as Clarke’s curled lips turned into genuine victory, and Lexa steps a fraction into Clarke’s view, her voice hushed and rich.

“You are absolutely terrifying,”

Clarke threw her head backwards and laughed, stealing a sip of Lexa’s new drink. Vodka tonic. Lexa was lukewarm on the liquor, but ordered it when she intended for Clarke to finish them.

“I was actually serious,” she sighed, her hand still lightly on Lexa’s hip, finger curled through her belt loop. Lexa smiled.

“I know,” she bit her lip, “I know she’s probably fine but,”

Clarke smiled helplessly, her hypnotic gaze fixed on Lexa’s near-pleading green.

“Wanna text Lucy?”

Lexa shuffled, her posture serene despite the sudden itch in her bones to leave the bar, drive home, and sneak in just to see her daughter.

“Can we call?”

Clarke’s smile twisted higher, her thumb brushing Lexa’s bitten lip.

“I’ll text,” she said, yelping; laughing, when Lexa feigned an attempt to bite her thumb.

“Thank you,” Lexa breathed.

“Mhm,” Clarke slipped her hand around to Lexa’s back pocket where Lexa let her keep her phone, typing rapidly, “Now, she’s going to text back and say everything’s fine, and then we’re going to watch Octavia make out with a stranger,”

Lexa snorted, nodding. They people-watched for a moment, Clarke making loud-quiet comments about the table dancers or rainbow feather boas. Lexa would laugh and snipe a made-up background story for them, a cherry of a pun on top.

Clarke pointed to the corner of the bar.

For whatever reason, a leather daddy with white spots painted onto his vest wore a long, thin tail and a horn-headband.

“Udder-ly ridiculous,” Lexa murmured, “He’s milking that for all he’s worth,”

At Clarke’s groaned laugh, precious in every facet, Lexa let herself admire how beautiful Clarke was. She was always beautiful. But she was beautiful here, too. The club lights were low and warm by the bar, making her pale skin glow. She’d gotten to sleep in this morning, and the rest had done her well. Fresh make up and clean hair in soft beach curls, Clarke was beautiful in a foundational way. It wasn’t something she decorated herself to be, she simply was.

It only took a glance to see she wasn’t the only person who thought so. And maybe the bartender had poured with a heavy hand, or Lexa had been egged on by Jack and had let it get to her. But in a strange motion of possessiveness, she pressed a kiss to Clarke’s temple. One short kiss, then another two in rapid succession.

It was how she kissed Evie. Just a sweet play of her lips, and then she stepped backwards, leading the way to the dance floor. She didn’t look at the blonde’s reaction, but felt satisfaction roll through her chest when Clarke tucked her fingers into Lexa’s waistband to follow through the jostling crowd.

Lexa made her way back towards the dance floor and found Raven at a table with Anya.

“Where’s Clarke?” Raven asked. Lexa pointed as the blonde rounded Lexa’s side.

“Oh hey, Clarke,” Raven cheered, her cheeks rosy.

Anya tossed them a smirk, “Have you seen her?”

Lexa shook her head, following Anya’s pointed beer wave. And she nearly caved to a full laughing fit.

Jack pressed the smaller woman into a cage made of tanned skin and men’s deodorant, her lips devouring the girl. Clarke was already sinking into a chair, unable to stand under the force of her laughter.

Raven looked faintly amused, and then Clarke delved into explanation. Anya grinned, delighted.

“She wanted to know how the queer community worked,” she tossed languidly, “Welcome to it. Everyone hooks up with everyone else,”

“Except Clarke and Lexa,” Raven smirked pointedly.

Anya dipped her head to the given exception, “Except Clarke and Lexa,”

“Oh, fuck off,” Clarke chucked an abandoned straw at Raven.

Lexa ignored the throb in her chest, ignored the friendly hello in her phone's inbox.

“Who’s going to tell Octavia?”

Clarke rolled her eyes at Raven, “No one,” she says pointedly, “This is supposed to be her night,”

Lexa shifted, finally taking a seat at the square table.

“Can we not find her another woman to assault?” she cast a cool eye to Jack’s insistent pawing, “God forbid Octavia get attached,”

Clarke tipped her head, considering. A valid point. The idea of a recurrence of Jack in any capacity irritated her like a tag outside the back of her shirt. She nodded, looking around the bar.

Lexa zeroed in with a seasoned eye to the group of women who looked very similar to their own collection. Three women seated at a table, drinking and laughing.

“Clarke,”

Blue eyes followed and nodded affirmatively, standing and pulling Lexa with her as Clarke crossed through the crowd. Approaching the table, Lexa wrapped an arm around Clarke’s waist, letting the women know Clarke wasn’t the item on the menu.

“Hey,” Clarke started, the three women breaking from conversation to stare at the arrivals, “Sorry to interrupt. But our friend’s having her first night out of the closet, and she’s kind of getting mauled by someone,” she wrinkles her nose and points to the dance floor, the couple clearly visible, “I was only wondering if anyone would like to rescue her? Her name’s Octavia and she’s kind of looking to have some fun tonight. No big deal if no one’s interested,”

Two of the women exchanged a stunned, unsure look, and Lexa immediately knew they’d had probably two dates after being friends for a while. Insecure relationship. She turned to the third woman, who tipped her head in consideration.

Lexa leaned over, “We’re not trying to start anything, or I’d do it myself, but,” she cast a proud look to Clarke and back to the woman, “You know,”

The woman smiled fully.

“I can appreciate that,” she nodded, “Is your friend crazy? Gonna call me thirty times at 5 am four weeks from now?”

Clarke laughed heartily while Lexa shook her head.

“Lexa,” she offered her free hand, speaking loudly over the music. The woman shook.

“Sienna,”

“Clarke,” the blonde offered, smiling, “No. She’s just insanely horny and trying to find an anchor to fly her freak flag from,” she gently rolled her eyes, Sienna smiling handsomely.

“The good ol’ days,” she joked.

“We can introduce you, if you’d like,” Lexa offered, fully expecting the wave Sienna gave. She winked.

“Thanks, but I’ve got this,”

Clarke smiled and nodded, watching Sienna grace the dance floor.

“Good eye, Lex,”

Lexa smirked, her eyes on Sienna’s back. The DJ spun a new track, and Clarke’s smile brightened, “Hey, come dance with me,”

And so Lexa, because she’s a sucker, let Clarke lead her to a spot in the crowd. Lexa wasn’t traditionally a dancer of any kind. But dancing at a gay bar with a stranger was not actual dancing. It was a balance. Holding a drink, holding a girl, and showing her you knew how to grind to a consistent rhythm.

Lesbian seduction at its finest.

It wasn’t something Lexa typically enjoyed. Unless of course, the drink she had was a whiskey sour, and the girl she held was Clarke Griffin. Technically, Clarke was a cop out. A dance partner for the sake of dancing. That’s how they had started, anyway. Clarke peeling Lexa from her wallflower tendencies and securing herself a shield where she could dance and actually enjoy the music without fear of interruption.

But reality was so much sweeter.

Clarke’s ass fit a perfect curve into the cradle of Lexa’s hips, her rhythm sweet and fun. Lexa had a hand laid gently on her hip, a guide of push and play. Clarke loved to dance. Lexa knew it wasn’t just the music or the mood or the alcohol. It was the artist in her. Clarke moved in direct proportion to how she felt; when she buttered bread, walked, dipped tea into hot water. She was so beautifully emotive.

Dancing was a much more blatant display. It was cause and effect rolled into agitation and instant gratification. Clarke’s hair slipped over her shoulders as she rolled her body, her shoulders rotating in counter-revolutions to her hips. Lexa let Clarke set the pace, but loved the way Clarke followed her lead.

The bass thumped in her chest, her heart an amp of its own.

Clarke had a hand on Lexa’s thigh, the other threading through her own hair occasionally. She arched backwards, her shoulders pressing up against Lexa’s breasts and _fuck_ Lexa was wet. It was a signal for Lexa to place her other hand on Clake’s hip, holding her curves in her hands. The song changed, and they gyrated to their own slow beat, Clarke’s head turning. She reached further back and wove her fingers through Lexa’s hair, the brunette dipping to press her cheek to Clarke’s forehead.

It was nearly dangerous.

Clarke felt every inch of Lexa behind her. The soft of her chest, the hard, muscular force in her hips’ rhythm, her sweet hands at her waist. Lexa handled her like something fragile and precious, yet strong enough to explode at any minute.

Another song, and suddenly, Lexa stiffened entirely, her body spasming acutely. Clarke jerked to see what was wrong, a frown marring her face at seeing it was only Octavia drunkenly grinding on Lexa. Behind her, Sienna looked flushed and pleased.

Clarke smiled and sighed as Lexa’s body bricked back up, the beautifully vulnerable cadence of tension broken. Clarke’s veins still thrummed, but a Lexa shocked out of a headspace was a Lexa of no return. She checked her phone.

Eleven. She turned the screen to show Lexa, who nodded. She disengaged from Clarke to find Raven and Anya, the two teasing them about their Mommy duties. Clarke only laughed to see Lexa’s immeasurably content expression at the accusation. After hugs and a confirmation Octavia had a plan to get home, they left.

Walking in the door of their apartment, Lucy sat up from where she’d been slumped on their couch.

“Ms Woods, Ms Griffin,” she chirped.

“Hey, Lucy,” Clarke smiled, “How was she?”

The girl stood, stretching her back, “Pretty active. She was a little gassy right after you left but we got it all out,”

“She never likes that,” Lexa grimaced. Clarke went to fetch Lucy’s money.

The girl’s sweet Mexican features smiled, chocolate eyes dancing up at Lexa, “She’s a sweetheart. After that, she ate pretty well so it’s no biggie,”

Lexa nodded, relaxed, “Well I’m sorry if she wasn’t as quiet as she usually is,”

Lucy waved a hand, “Psh. Compared to doing the exact same thing for my own mom, plus three brothers, without getting paid for it? Yeah right, Ms. Woods. It was a blast,”

Clarke re-entered the room with her money.

“Did you eat?”

Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Ms. Griffin, come on, you guys have got to stop feeding me like this. My Dad’ll wonder why I keep talking about coming over,” she gave another put-upon exhale, “and then I’ll have to come out, and then there’ll be tears, and yikes,”

Lexa smiled, Clarke outright laughing.

“Well tell him Lex and I say hi,” she put an arm around the 18-year-old, “But you can come over you know, just to talk if you want,” she smiled, “No one would understand better than us,”

Lucy’s dark complexion dusted awed and touched.

“Thanks, Ms. G,”

Lexa opened the door, and they both waved her out. Lexa sighed.

“I hope she comes to talk to us if she does feel conflicted,”

Clarke hummed.

“And to think, Lucy could come out, be the gayest of us all, and take up Jack’s mantel,”

Lexa scowled at her, “Stop that,”

Clarke crooned laughter her smile sinking into a yawn.

“Think Octavia will be alright?”

Lexa nodded, leading into their bedroom to change for the night. They turned away from each other as they dressed, practiced privacy.

“Anya wouldn’t let anything bad happen,”

“Bad, no. Regretful? Absolutely,” Clarke shook her hair out of her sleep shirt’s neck, “St. Patrick’s. Two years ago. I’ll never forgive her for sending the video to you,”

Lexa choked on muffling her laugh, double-checking Evie was still asleep.

“The only regret _I_ have is that I wasn’t there to personally witness it,”

Clarke scoffed, toothpaste passing from her hand to Lexa’s over the bathroom sink. Around the brush, she complained.

“’is wha’ –oo get ‘or wunnin’ th’ fife ‘ay, an no’ dwin’in ‘eh,”

Lexa stopped brushing her teeth to blink at her.

“Wha’?”

Clarke tipped her head back to smile around the foam. She shook her head and finished brushing hurriedly.

“I said, ‘That’s what you get for running the 5K instead of drinking it’,”

Lexa breathed a laugh through her nose.

“You thought the finishers’ complimentary pint was a table full of free samples. You deserve every recorded second of trying to hide your underage intoxication from the street cops while 24. Every second,”

Clarke huffed, throwing their decorative pillows to the floor.

“Yeah, well. At least I didn’t have to pay for my beer,”

“Because you stole it,”

“It’s not stealing if it’s free,”

Lexa slid under the covers, Clarke hitting the lights and crawling in. Lexa groaned in stutters of exaggerated relief.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,”

Clarke hummed, smiling. She adjusted her head into the pillow.

“You’re such a party animal,”

Lexa gave a sleepy whirr.

Only for a hiccupping cry to shatter the air. Evie’s piercing tones immediately jumped to stage 2, and Lexa whined. Clarke groaned, swatting at her.

“I made dinner,”

Lexa moaned, squeezing her eyes tight before rolling out of bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you all think and if I should continue. This was just a good time for me! 
> 
> Thank you for spending the time to read. 
> 
> As always.  
> With Love,  
> K


End file.
